


Fire from within

by Knotted String (knottedstring)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), Budding Love, Canon Compliant, Drabble Sequence, Feelings Realization, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knottedstring/pseuds/Knotted%20String
Summary: They're safe, they're adapting to their new life, and Rick is adapting to his new feelings.-Title taken from "Ode to a beautiful nude" by Pablo Neruda.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Fire from within

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago as the start of something long, but never finished it. I found it today in my drafts and decided it could stand on its own.
> 
> Enjoy this hesitant softness.

Rick wakes up groggy, confused and disoriented. It's still mostly dark outside, dawn just breaking, and the house is completely quiet. The silence is eerie to a person so used to the sounds of nature, the hiss of walkers. The old world was nothing but noise. Electric currents buzzing in wires, faraway trains rattling on their tracks, the occasional dog barking. There were gardeners and sprinklers and furniture creaking and distant radios humming, and now - now there's just silence. The unnatural one, created entirely by how nature actually is. And Rick, Rick isn't used to a bed and walls barring him from the outside, isn't used to the sound of his own sheets rustling. He sits up and glances at Judith's crib and panics, for a millisecond, because it's empty. Years of surviving in a world ruled by the dead trained him and in a second he is tight as a string, adrenaline flowing, his muscles tight, arm reaching for his Colt and knife. And then he hears it.

From outside his window, low and rumbly and mostly bass, comes a hum. He forces his body to relax, orders his hand to release the knife, and peers outside his window. Two stories down, on the porch, sitting cross-legged on the swing, Daryl is singing to his baby daughter.

He watches them for a minute, feeling his body relax as the adrenaline ebbs away. He gets dressed then, jeans and a white t-shirt, and after a quick visit to the bathroom, to pee and wash his face, he makes his way downstairs. In the kitchen he drinks a glass of water, waiting for the kettle to boil, and lacking any option for real coffee makes himself a mug of the cheap, instant stuff they got from the communal pantry. It's a pale imitation of the real thing, but now it feels like a luxury. In his old life there were mornings he couldn't start the day without a cup of strong, strong espresso. Lori loved the instant stuff. Drank it with two teaspoons of sugar and hazelnut creamer. The memory stings, and he feels bad, complaining about bad coffee.

He tries to be quiet as he walks outside, barefoot, but the door creeks and even if it hadn't, he knows no one can sneak up on Daryl. Daryl doesn't look up straight away, still humming a tune Rick can't recognize. His voice is low and melodic, soothing, and something in it is making heat coil at the bottom of Rick's stomach and he thinks, not for the first time, that he wants to kiss this man.

“She was fussin’,” Daryl says in lieu of a proper greeting. “Didn't want her ta wake ya.”

“Thanks.” Rick mutters, moving to place his mug of the porch railing and lean against it, so he could comfortably watch Daryl and his little girl. Every muscle in his body is straining to get closer but his brain is still sleep muddled, he's afraid of what he might do, how close he might get, knowing Daryl was in his room while he slept. “Want some coffee?”

“Nah.” Daryl looks at him briefly, eyes warm and a tiny smile he usually keeps only for the baby. “Never liked the stuff.”

“Oh man. I used to be addicted to it.” Rick offers, Daryl's silent nature suddenly making him want to fill the space up with words. “Not the watery stuff from McDonalds. Used to make Sha- used to drive all the way across town to the Italian cafe.”

Daryl hums, says nothing about the name Rick still can't say without a wound throbbing deep inside of him. In his arms, Judith is stirring, maybe from the lack of song, maybe because she hears Rick's voice. Daryl glances between her and Rick. “You want her?”

“No,” Rick says, daring to imagine Daryl's relief. “You're good with her. She likes your voice.”

Daryl ducks behind his hair, obviously embarrassed Rick heard him. “S’just a silly nursery rhyme my Ma used to sing.”

“You have a good voice.” Rick picks his mug up and blows air on the hot liquid, watched the steam swirl. He says nothing else, waiting. With Daryl, he learned, patience is the key. Things take time. And after a few minutes of silence, when Judith starts fussing, quiet little whimpers, Daryl begins to sing again.

Daryl is fixed on Judith again and Rick uses his distraction to look at him, really look. Daryl looks unguarded, soft in the early morning light. Safety is still a foreign feeling for them all, behind Alexandria's walls, but that's was Rick feels right then. Safe around this man, safe to have his daughter in Daryl's arms. The force of his affection doesn't surprise him anymore. Not as the attraction once did. He can't seem to pinpoint the moment he looked at Daryl and instead of thinking ‘I trust him’, or ‘I like him’, he thought ‘I want him, I need him’. It happened slowly, matured over days and nights and months, and now it feels so consuming sometimes, so strong. Knowing there's nothing he can do about it is a despairing thought. He will never risk the safety of his family, not for his selfish desires, as strong as they might be. But he still wants him. Still attracted to him in a way he never felt, not with Lori, not ever.

He's staring at Daryl, lost in thought, and he only realises once he's been caught, because Daryl stopped singing and is now matching his stare, blue and intense and unreadable. Rick can feel his face heating up. He clutches the mug he's still holding and uses it as a distraction, sipping the coffee that turned lukewarm in the meanwhile. It's truly disgusting, the taste nothing like what coffee should be, and the cringe on his face makes Daryl laugh, rumbling and low. “That bad?”

“Worse.” Rick says, even as he takes a second sip. “But beggars can't be choosers.”

Daryl nods, half a smile still playing on his lips. Judith is quiet now, but awake. Her small hands and reaching for Daryl’s fingers, grabbing them. She's beaming up at him, in a way she only ever beamed at Beth. Even Rick can't get that expression from her, she looks besotted. He can't blame her. He leaves the mug on the railing and goes to sit down next to Daryl, closer than he would've dared had other people been around, and if Daryl notices, he says nothing. Judith sees him and immediately reaches out for him and Daryl hands her over. “She wants her daddy.”

Rick takes her, ignoring his fingers touching Daryl's, and coos at his baby. He hugs her closer and bounces her once or twice, inhaling her scent. The scene is dangerously domestic. Rick imagines a world where Daryl would reach an arm around him and pull him and Judith closer, bury his nose in Rick's hair and inhale him just as Rick did with Judith. He imagines them sitting like that until it becomes time to feed her, and they both go inside, Daryl feeding Judith as Rick is making them both breakfast. And then, in that perfectly safe world, where all they have is time, they could put Judith down for a nap and then Daryl would grab him by the wrist and pull him upstairs and- he's brought back to reality by a snap of fingers right in front of his nose.

“Where’d you go, man?” Daryl looks curious, maybe slightly worried, and Rick shakes his head to clear his mind, blushing even though Daryl couldn't possibly know what he's thinking about.

“Just zoned out, sorry, not as awake as I thought.” he tries to sound indifferent, but Daryl still looks at him, his eyes sharp, keen, unconvinced. Rick looks back defiantly, used to having staring matches with the other man, to prove his point, prove he's fine, convince he's right. Daryl's gaze changes then, into something unfamiliar, unreadable. He looks as though he's trying to decide something, read something in Rick's face, maybe even deeper. He has the eyes of a predator, he  _ is  _ a predator, but Rick never felt like prey in front of him before, like any wrong move could make him pounce. And he thinks, if he lets himself be honest, if he allows his mind run wild, he thinks this might be a moment that changes everything.

It isn't. The moment is broken when Carol steps outside with a bottle for Judith and a smile on her face, though it freezes when she sees them, becoming cautious. “You boys okay?”

Daryl says nothing, just stands up swiftly in a fluid motion and the air seems to suck into the vacuum his body left. Rick smiles at Carol and takes the bottle from her with a grateful smile, offering it to a very eager Judith. “Good morning Carol, thanks.”

“No problem, I saw your room was empty but no bottle out, thought you might need it.” She keeps her tone light, Rick knows she isn't fooled though. Her eyes keep shifting between Daryl and him. But Carol is a smart woman, he knows she won't say a thing.

Daryl is lingering for a bit, and then turns to Rick. “Was thinking ‘bout going out today, setting some snares.”

“Is it necessary?” Carol asks before Rick has a chance to. “We got food.”

Daryl looks at her for a moment and something passes between them, but when he talks he talk to Rick. “Some meat would be nice.”

Rick knows it's his way of trying to help. He has a hard time adapting to the feeling of walls around him, used to being in survival mode and Rick gets that. Gets that Daryl is trying to contribute as much as the others, justify his place, but also that he needs it. Needs to be outside. “Want me to come with you?”

“Nah.” Daryl dismisses him quickly, and that's that. So Rick nods, Daryl excuses himself and disappears towards Aaron's house, probably to take the bike he's fixed. Rick is half expecting Carol to say something but he should probably know better, because all she does is offer to take Judith from him with a smile, and then he's standing up and leaving them both there on the porch, heading back upstairs to get dressed and start his day.

-

Daryl comes back around dusk and Rick tries to pretend he didn't count the minutes until he returned. He looks tired but satisfied, and there's a smudge of mud on his cheek and some walker guts on his pants. Carol tuts at him from the kitchen, where she's making dinner, and Maggie looks worried from her place on the couch but Daryl reassures them quickly. “Fucker didn't go down easy.”

He deposits some rabbits on the kitchen counter, small and scrawny but it still looks like a feast for them. Rick watches from the top of the stairs, where he hurried to when he heard the front door open, for the fifth time that day, every time disappointed again. He's suddenly nervous, but he doesn't know why, exactly. Downstairs Carol is badgering Daryl to go take a shower, arguing that the rabbits can wait until after she's done making dinner, and then they'll decide how to split them between everyone. It's always amusing to Rick how opposed Daryl is to showers, how he'd rather keep the woods on him for as long as possible, but Carol is a force that no one can mess with. Rick retreats back into his room as Daryl turns towards the stairs, suddenly nervous. He doesn't know why. He's relieved that Daryl is back, always is when someone returns from a run, but he also feels, for lack of a better word, shy. Like he doesn't want to face Daryl yet, doesn't quite know what to say to him.

He closes the door behind him and sits back on the bed, trying to distract himself with a book Carol gave him. He used to love reading. Spent many Saturday and Sunday mornings in the living room with Lori and Carl, both of them reading while Carl watched cartoons. But ever since everything went to hell so did his ability to concentrate on a page for long. He's still reading, stubbornly not thinking about Daryl, when there's a knock on the door.

“You busy?” Daryl opens the door without waiting, sticking his head inside. His hair is damp and he's wearing a tank top and a pair of jeans a bit too big for him, riding low on his hips. Rick swallows, then beckons him inside.

“What's up?” He puts the book down, turning to face Daryl, still lingering in the doorway.

“Got some rabbits,” Daryl says, “but we gotta check the snares tomorrow.”

Rick nods, doesn't want to tell Daryl that he knows already, timid about being caught lurking. It isn't like him, but he can't help it if he's orbiting Daryl like a moon. He used to think it was the other way around, but about the time he realised he had more than platonic feelings, he also realised he was circling Daryl just as much as Daryl was circling him. Daryl is still lingering, biting his tongue, and Rick waits. He knows Daryl has something else to say.

“Also found a place we should check out.” He says, takes a step into the room and lets the door close behind him. “S’little cabin. Preserved. Lots of baby stuff.”

“Okay,” Rick says, interested. They could use some more baby clothes, some food. “You wanna take Glenn and Spencer? One of the cars?”

“Nah,” Daryl says, and he's not quite looking at him, but Rick feels what's coming and he's excited, hopeful. “You and me. If that's okay.”

Rick finds himself nodding enthusiastically, the prospect of time alone with Daryl exciting and intimidating. “Sure. Sounds good. When?”

“Dawn.” Daryl says, but it sounds slightly like a question. Rick is nodding again, and then there's another moment of loaded silence. It feels meaningful, it always does. Rick doesn't quite know why but he's waiting, leaning towards Daryl, half into the motion if standing up. Daryl turns towards him, eyes burning into Rick, and he takes a small breath, visible only because Rick is staring so intently at him, when he finally does stand up.

The disappointment is crushing when Carl barges in without knocking, announcing dinner is ready. They all go downstairs together, and if Daryl pulls his chair slightly closer to Rick's, Rick pretends not to notice.


End file.
